


In the dark places

by Bananas45



Category: Outlaw King (2018)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Cold Weather, Hair Washing, M/M, Outdoor Sex, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 18:16:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16707571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bananas45/pseuds/Bananas45
Summary: He is handsome. It’s an odd thing to realise, under the moonlight on this loch in the middle of nowhere, beside a hill full of blood and under the twinkling lights of the enemy camp.“You are a good man” Douglas says softly. “I think you’re questioning yourself. All these people, rallying to you finally. Resentment was easier fuel for the fire but now you have to be the king they wanted, right? and you’re asking yourself if you’re good enough”He swallows, unsure how to answer, unsure if he’s allowed to say that no, he wasn’t thinking that, he was thinking how pretty James fucking Douglas looked under the moonlight.





	In the dark places

**Author's Note:**

> Really no excuse. They were just very beautiful and I really bought their relationship.

The rain does not ease, nor does the weight of what they’ve done. Though to Robert, mud-stained and exhausted, it suddenly means a whole lot less. Suddenly he craves a warm bath more than he’s craved anything in his life. He does not say so, instead he shakes hands and clasps backs and helps clear the injured.  
“You should rest” he doesn’t register who tells him it.  
“There are too many men at rest here” His eyes survey the carnage - the carnage he inflicted - before the dart to the mid-day sun. He feels sick, has felt sick since he saw the crown prince crawl out the battle like some wounded deer, since he caught the eyes of James, all wild and full of rage. “I’ll help them before I do anything of the sort”  
It’s what should be said, it’s what a king need be. Not some scampering child like their adversary but someone willing to stand even when it’s hard, even when everyone's telling him to stop. He can’t stop. He won’t. He must be better than what they’re up against and he won’t cower away from dirty tasked now they have the upper hand.  
James is hauling bodies away to a cart but something catches his eye, a whimpering that Robert hears too. His fingers flex around his knife as he takes it to a begging English bowman.  
“We should keep prisoners” Robert shouts, sharper than he means and more sympathetic than he’s meant to be.  
James doesn’t look up as he bats away the mans failing arms in the hopes of landing a cut, his body moves as if possessed and Robert, even from as far away as he is sees the glazed look in those sharp blue eyes.  
“Douglas!” He bellows and makes his way over, scrambling over body and tripping over hooves.  
The air, cold enough to freeze your lungs, scratches at his throat.  
He saw the man earlier today - the man, he’s practically a boy - saw the brutality there, the unchecked rage and the desire for murder. He’d been as scared by it as every other Englishman who faced him but he still hears in his head those soft words 

‘Are you a good man?’

In the end neither of them are. He lets Douglas do what he pleases, he’s too tired to stare into the ocean colored fire that is that man nor to show the ranks any form of instability in his inner circle at a time like this. Instead he contents himself to do what’s right even if a noble, one of his own, grabs his arm and snarls “Can you keep your dog under control?”  
Because this isn’t the wild anymore. The second the English retreated he was no longer an outlaw, a scoundrel, he was a king with responsibilities and a duty. A duty to be a good man. No, not good; noble, upright and chilerious, not good. He fears he’s forgotten at this point.  
The mud makes his clothes heavy, heavier than they already are and his head and neck ache, the cuts and bruises pale in comparison, at least they are visceral and grounding. The rest; his family, his crown, the destruction they’ll need to clean up, the negotiations he’ll have to answer, that’s the real pain. Comyn’s people will still distrust him and hell, he doesn’t want to consider what people will think of Douglas, his champion who slaughters on palm sunday.  
For a moment he craves the mindless anger he felt before, crawling through the undergrowth with nothing other than each other. The dew on the grass, the brisk cold of the pale sun over heard. No one except themselves and a goal.  
The sun finally sets and he is finally convinced to stop working.  
He trudges back to camp, bustling with elated voices and whisperings of new kingdoms but Robert can’t find happiness in any of it. His wife is still gone, his child still missing, his future uncertain. A part of him wants to shout that they may be back tomorrow, with twice the forces and hell to pay.  
The night settles fast and people fall equally fast asleep, covered in their filth and blood still fresh but with hopes high for a better future-  
“There is a loch over that way”  
James sniffs and meets his eyes for a moment before looking away, he smiles briefly, wolfish.  
“Nobodies talking to me here” he snorts as he frowns, jaw clenched. “So I’m fucking off for a bit”  
Robert raises his eyebrows and blows the air out his nose, it’s almost a laugh.  
“And, are you inviting me?” Robert asks.  
James flushes and looks away as he kicks a clump of dried mud “Aye. Unless your already up your own kingly arse-”  
“No,no” Robert stands. “No, I’m most definitely not”  
James swallows, the campfire light flickers across his features.  
“You feel it too?” He sounds tentative. “I thought I’d feel relieved but I feel-”  
“Empty” Robert sighs. James looks at him and slowly smiles, gentle and demure and not crazed like earlier. “So this loch” 

Is freezing. Or so he finds out after he strips down, pulling duty off his shoulders and sweat soaked responsibilities of his chest. He dumps his armour, his sword by an old och that looks like it’ll take good care off it before he steps into the water, ignoring how it drives the breath out his lungs with how bitingly cold it is. He can barely see one step in front off himself and he trips on a root that’s lodged in the water. It takes him under but the shock is nice, blessed in a way if he thinks back to how horrible and hot he’d felt, how suffocated on the battlefield.  
“Fucking hell” He hears Douglas yelp behind him as he resurfaces.  
“You sound like a little girl, James” He shouts back, throwing his head to the side to swipe away the pearls off water. The light is so poor that Douglas is barely a shadow but he sees the arms swing to keep balances as a gasp is pulled from the younger man.  
“Fuck off” James hollers and Robert can’t help but cackle. He swims out a little and rubs the dirt off his shoulders and face, feels the silken mud under his feet. The water ripples beside him.  
“And now I have you, my liege, with your guard down, undefended-”  
Robert turns just in time to get a mouth full of water.  
“Ah-hah” He coughs and staggers into the water with a splash, stands back up and lets the night air blow across his chest. “You’re a wee bastard, Douglas” He swipes out and hears a cry as it hits it’s target. “It’s too dark”  
“For you maybe” James says. “I’m a full beast now”  
Robert chuckles and stretches, ducking his head back under to unravel the blood that’s stuck.  
“I’d die for a hot bath” Douglas is murmuring.  
“What’s a beast need that for?” He splashes again and James all but whimpers. “Who’d’ve known you’re such a pansy”  
Douglas laughs, bellied and warm. “Watch it” and then quieter he adds “I’ve really always hated the cold”  
The moon appears from behind heavy clouds and bathes them both in a pale blue light. James is looking at the water, his chest hairless with youth, heaving from the cold and littered in scars. His face is guarded still, the way it always is, masking whatever he feels under callous sarcasm and rage but their is exhaustion written into the lines of his shoulders, the curve of his spine. Defeated is what it screams.  
“You did good, James” Robert hears himself say and James shudders.  
“They’ll never accept me” He whispers, almost to himself but Robert hears it in the silence of the night. “Never”  
“Maybe not now” Robert has no sweet words, no condolences, he was never one for those. On the sweeping black hills that surround them he can see the glimmering lights of the English camp, they flicker softly. They still fill him with terror. “But maybe one day” he dampens the hope even in himself and yet he’s here, offering support to a man who will never regain what he never had to begin with. “Who knows, maybe I won’t be king by next week. Who knows what’ll happen” he tries to laugh .  
“Do you mean that?” Douglas rasps, as though he’s on the verge of tears. He flicks the water with his thumb and forefinger and watches it ripple. “I meant what I said” he looks over “You, not Scotland” he spits “Or the nobles, for all they’ve fucking helped me. I don’t serve the crown”  
James steps closer, the water laps gently around him as he makes his way over till they’re standing toe to toe. “I serve you, Robert”  
The wind makes it ripple like the tide, the water tickles at his waist. The moonlight flickers as clots of cloud dapple over it. James looks so painfully young, with the blood and dirt slowly rolling off his face, he finally looks human again. His words rumble, ignite something inside Robert, a desperate need to cling to the things he knows he can trust and James is like a dog, always loyal, always there.  
“You’re still filthy” Robert says, clearing his throat. “Let me”  
James’ eyes go comically wide and he shakes his head frantically.  
“No, I couldn’t- As friendly as we are you’re still my king-”  
Robert gets him right in the eye with a well aimed splash.  
“OH you cunt” Douglas laughs, jaw dropped as he screws his eyes shut, he takes in a shuddering breath. “You are a scoundrel”  
“Turn around, Douglas, before I change my mind” He says. James does and smiles as he does so. It’s not so unusual, they swam together before when they were on the road. They shared meals, tents, bed sheets and Douglas was never timid about it. It worries Robert that something has changed.  
“You’re scarred up” He says and trails a hand over the open wounds, still oozing blood.  
“They’ll heal” James mutters as his teeth chatter. Robert wipes the blood away and untangles leaves out of wild black locks.  
“How’d you manage to get like this?” He chuckles, hot breath on James’ shoulder.  
“How’d you not?” He counters. “It was fucking mayhem out there. Don’t tell me you weren’t trying hard enough”  
“Should’ve kept track of our kills” Robert murmurs as he pulls a splinter of wood out Douglas’ shoulder.  
“Nah- Ah-” James grits his teeth. “Mine’d be better. Wouldn’t wanna disgrace you”  
The skin on skin contact is nice. The only contact he’s had since he lost everything was fighting and Douglas must be the same, except the odd lass he managed to court on Islay. Though he can’t blame them, James is handsome, under it all.  
He is handsome. It’s an odd thing to realise, under the moonlight on this loch in the middle of nowhere, beside a hill full of blood and under the twinkling lights of the enemy camp.  
“You are a good man” Douglas says softly. “I think you’re questioning yourself. All these people, rallying to you finally. Resentment was easier fuel for the fire but now you have to be the king they wanted, right? and you’re asking yourself if you’re good enough”  
He swallows, unsure how to answer, unsure if he’s allowed to say that no, he wasn’t thinking that, he was thinking how pretty James fucking Douglas looked under the moonlight.  
“You’re being awfully nice” Robert pats his back, a wet slap that echoes through the night air. They’re far enough away that no one can hear them and he wonders if anyone will wonder where the king and his Champion have scurried off to.  
“Only to you” James winks as he throws himself back under the water.  
“I see how the others look at me” Douglas shakes the water from his hair. “I can’t feel my feet-” he mutters as he begins to head inshore “I see what they think - ‘Robert can do better than that’ ‘Why that boy’”  
“But I’ve chosen you” Robert says as Douglas steps onto the bank, pulling up a cotton shirt to cover himself he points.  
“I know” He smiles. “But...If they give you hell for it-” there is uncertainty in Douglas’ eyes, a fear of rejection.  
“Then let them” Robert calls, following him to the embankment “Let them”  
His teeth chatter softly even as the skin dries. “W-we should head back” Douglas keeps his eyes on him, it’s a challenge, a test of sorts. Robert smiles.  
“I don’t know if I want to” 

The pine forest is almost warm, crowded and dark. James leads him up a slope, to a ridge that falls away into the loch bellow them. The trees crowd around in a little circle and the soft, rotting pine needles underfoot are almost spingey between his bare feet.  
“Nice spot” He says to James, whose smile is only just visible in the dark.  
“Fit for a king?”  
He smiles back and drops his armour, pulling on shirt as he pads over to where Douglas is staring.  
“Still seems like a big camp, considering the damage we did”  
“It’s got a good view” Robert steps back and under foot ashen wood snaps.  
Douglas lets out an embarrassed huff “I’ll admit, I’ve spent the last few nights up here”  
Robert tilts his head. “For the view?”  
Douglas mutters “I wanted some quiet...but I won't lie” He looks over at the flickering lights of the English camp. “The view is pretty good”  
Robert chuckles and looks over. James’ eyes are on him but the glance away quickly.  
“I’ve got some fire wood, though I don’t know why I got it.” Douglas bends over “Considering I didn’t expect to live”  
They stay silent as they make it, till it crackles and snaps gently between them. Robert finally speaks.  
“You didn’t expect to make it?”  
James stares at the flames, curled up against a thick pine tree and covered in a blanket Robert hadn’t even registered him taking from camp.  
“No” He sighs the word out like it means nothing “Not really” His smile is crooked. “I’d never given much thought as to what I’d do after all this”  
“You’re young. Too young to die, Douglas” Robert sounds reprimanding.  
“No one’s too young to die” he murmurs as he warms his hands, stretching his fingers out.  
Robert thinks of his daughter, wherever she is, scared and alone. Thinks of his wife and his burnt home, of all the piledged villages. Douglas is right.  
“You’ve got some way with words, y’know” He smiles and James looks up.  
“Do I?”  
“You’re eloquent-”  
“Fuck off, Bruce” He kicks up some dirt with his bare feet, as he grins.  
“No, you are” He smiles. “You are. I think you hide it under all that bravado and spite because you’re scared of seeming weak, you’re scared of what people think so you make them think the worst”  
James is silent and Robert wonders if he’s over stepped his mark.  
“I was schooled in Paris” He says slowly. “I’m not some raving lunatic like everyone thinks me...But I dunno, It’s easier to be what people think you are.”  
Robert sighs through his nose “I know that”  
Douglas grins and shakes his head. “I was a little scared, if I’m honest”  
Robert looks up, listens above the crackling of the fire to the soft murmur of the water below them and stretches out to lie beside the fire. It settles a calm over him that he hasn’t felt in days, weeks even.  
“Not of dying” James continues “Of losing you”  
“I wasn’t going to die-” Though it’s easy to say now it’s over.  
“Not like that” James interrupts harshly. “I thought the battle would be done and you’d retreat back to your castle with all the nobles-”  
“You’re a noble too, James” Robert tries. He gets a tired look in return.  
“Thought you’d leave me behind. It’s embarrassing, Y’know, outlawed and on the run, clambering through the countries starving and slaughtering...Not kingly” James rubs his shoulders and closes his eyes. “Thought you’d want to put all that behind you”  
Robert chuckles, then laughs, laughs until suddenly he can barely speak, laughs until he wheezes. James stares, eyes darting like he’s missed the joke of the year.  
“Oh, Douglas” He sighs, wiping tears away. “I forget sometimes you’re just a boy”  
“It’s not that fucking funny” Douglas snarls and pulls the ragged scratchy blanket round himself. Off course Robert would mock him, off course he wouldn’t get it; the fear James felt joining his ranks, giving up the nothing he had anyway to die for a cause that at least his family once believed in when only months ago he was genuflect in front of the English King begging for the same thing. Robert had been there that day, with soft defiance in his eyes as James was kicked out like some whore who’d ask for more pennies. And then he’d asked the same of Robert, on that wind swept road and instead of mockery, instead of sneers, Robert had stared down and questioned if James knew who he was joining? What a joke, the king asking him as if he had any right to refuse or accept. He’d looked into James’ eyes like they were equals, just as disenfranchised and beaten down as each other and offered him a place by his side like he belonged there-  
A hand, rough and warm, large and calloused cups his cheek.  
“James” It’s so soft, soft enough that it barely sounds over the snap of the wood fire. Robert looks into his eyes, his gaze searching, brow knitted like he’s confused and James just sits, frozen under the kindness he sees there. “Did you mean it today?”  
James stays silent, unsure he can trust his own voice.  
“You asked if you should kill him” Robert asks and suddenly James remembers the English Prince, down on all fours and begging for help, screaming and sobbing, remembers himself asking if he should end it. “After they’d retreated, retreated and surrendered practically! and you looked at me and asked if we should kill the King, down and unarmed after a retreat was sounded”  
James blinks.  
“That’s not honour, James. That would have earned you no titles, no pride for beating a beaten dog. It’s shame and you know it and all you’ve wanted from the start was your pride and your home back” Robert’s hand tightens on his jaw “So I don’t understand why you’d try to sacrifice it all-”  
“For you!” James snaps and when he looks up his eyes are that same fire that he’s seen in those battles, all those slaughters. Robert wants to ask when it became that, when this changed from an alliance of necessity, one with mutual benefit, Douglas’ land returned and Robert’s country won to something deeper. Was it on the road, back to back and hearts in tandem, or maybe on the battlefield when they saw each others raw strength. Maybe it was when Robert let him take his home back.  
The silence begins to stretch and his hand is still firmly on James’ cheek. The boy’s breath is even but laboured like some wild thing that wants to escape. There is desire in those sharp blue eyes, sharp even though the night is so dark and the light is so dim.  
“James” He says softly, ever so softly.  
The thrum of battle still echoes through them, unreleased and coiled like a snake. James cannot look up, cannot meet his eyes.  
The campfire snaps beside them, loud and harsh and they bolt to tension, hands grasping for swords. His heart hammering, his mind racing and his vision red with adrenaline until he realises what it was.  
When he turns back and sees Douglas, eyes frantic and lip bitten, his whole body taut with tension, he can’t help himself.  
Their lips meet on the second crack of the embers falling apart.  
James’ hands grab his shoulders to steady himself as the tatty old blanket falls off his own. His lips are cracked and dry but warm, alive and human. Robert’s hands cup his cheeks like he would anyone else, his thumbs rub softly under James’ eyes and they close as he sighs.  
“Fuck...” James murmurs as he runs hands over the scars from today, the scars from past fights, the scars from stupid things like when Robert caught his arm in a bramble bush.  
They arrange their clothes under themselves, close enough to the fire to feel its warmth. It’s surprisingly tender till James gets a taste for a him, like a bloodhound on the trail of someone his kisses become frantic. Teeth and nails and desperation as his body catches up with the idea that he’s alive, they survived this. It’s over and they did it.  
He owes James so much, so very much, in both companionship and skill in battle that this feels just.  
James lies over him, arms by his hair and light playing of the planes of muscle as he barely takes a breath between the kisses he litters over Robert’s face and lips.  
“James- Douglas - calm-” He laughs softly and James laughs too as he’s held off by stronger arms. LIke this he seems sweet, unguarded and innocent in the moonlight. Robert wonders how anyone sees madness in the man above him.  
He turns them so that James is under him, wild curls splayed across the pine covered clothes and muddied blankets. His stomach, taut with muscle, relaxes as Robert spreads his fingers over him, trails up as James gasps.  
“You’re beautiful-”  
“Fuck off” James snaps before he finishes the word.  
Robert chuckles and kisses across his collar. The skin is tougher than a womans, sharper in some ways but he isn’t looking for softness, neither of them are. He wants James, for all his insanity and flaws, skill at butchery. He wants James.  
The cold on his back makes James feel all the warmer, more inviting and the idea of losing themselves in each other is so desirable.  
“You can take me” James murmurs, flushed and embarrassed, he can’t quite meet Robert’s eye. “If you want” He adds.  
“I’ll hurt you” Robert warns and his hand rests on James’ heart, feels it fluttering under that strong ribcage and the toned muscle. James swallows, his throat working and his eyes defiant, even if there's a glimmer of fear there.  
“I’m sure I can take it. Can’t be worse than today and if it is then I feel sorry for your wife-”  
Robert slaps his arm and James wheezes with laughter.  
“You cheeky shite”  
Their lips meet again and he lets James bite softly at his lower lip. Their noses brush as James parts his legs, a cold foot on Robert’s shoulder that he almost bats away.  
He swipes a finger over James’ bottom lip and he opens softly. Their eyes meet as he sucks, trailing his tongue over war hardened fingers until they’re warm and soaked in his mouth.  
And okay, Bruce had a point, it does hurt. It hurts a lot and he tries not to wince but he fails. His nails digging into Robert’s back as he clenches his jaw. But there is something oddly fulfilling about it, something oddly sweet. The pain is grounding.  
“Robert...” It comes out softer than he means, more disarmed and gentle. Bruce, as in all things, isn’t as brutish as he expects. He takes his time, is slow and gentle until James’ brow is wet with sweat and skin tingles with a heat that has nothing to do with the fire beside them.  
The lake water, even from here reflects the flickers of their fire. He wonders if anyone can see the light, if there is anyone around to see them. On this night, battle exhausted and high on the win, he doubts anyone will think of them. Though he tries to imagine it, some hapless soldier's coming across the king and his champion so compromised. Would anyone be surprised? After the things they’ve done, this is barely a sin comparatively.  
James grins at how ridiculous it is when Robert pulls back to spit into his palm. The fire is dying beside them, slowly taking the light away from this moment but somehow making it more intimate.  
“Hurry, I’m freezing” He chuckles, smile bright and open, relaxed as he stretches out on the cold ground.  
Robert pushes into him with the carnal desperation James knows him for in war and he can’t help but throw his head back, crying out as it tears at him.  
“I’m sorry-”  
“’s fine” He mutters but he’s trembling like a summer flower in the wind and he hates himself for it, hates the prick of tears in his eyes as he desperately drags in breath.  
“Worse than war?” Robert laughs hopelessly. “We can stop-”  
“No!” James grits his teeth. “No”  
Robert pulls back just a little and James cries out, altogether more breathless than before as his eyes fly wide open.  
“Fine?”  
“Shut up” He bites his hand as the man in question moves again, when he pulls back only to thrust back in harder, James almost screams.  
“Shh- sh-” Robert chuckles and James glares at him with glazed eyes. The sound is lost in thick forest.  
“Move, again, please” He almost begs. “Please-”  
Robert does, thrusts hard and fast like his own life depends on it. It’s harsher than James has ever done with a woman, probably the same with Robert but he’s different, it’s different. Here, alone and still hungry for blood. There are still beasts inside the two of them that they can’t ignore.  
“Oh god- Robert-” He’s embarrassingly loud, even when he tries not to be, even when he bites his lip, his hand, clenches his jaw, Robert still pulls sounds out him he didn’t know he could make. He’s spent years crafting effortless bitterness and anger, heartless cruelty and yet he’s almost sobbing, mouth open and cheeks flushed as he bucks and groans.  
Robert smiles, even though his hips thrust hard enough to knock James back on every thrust, hard enough that the grip on his thighs will bruise as he wraps a spare hand around James’ cock.  
It’s comforting, in a sense, after the madness of today, to see James look human again. Eyes fluttering and breath weak as he moans and twists, arms so use to killing now limp by his sides as he lets Robert do as he pleases with his body. That proud stray dog brought to heel by a kind word and a soft touch.  
The coil in James is tightening, he feels it in how the boy begins to shudder and tense. His thighs tenses and his toes curling.  
“James” He whispers, burying his nose in the man’s hair, thrusting harder and faster till James in keening under him, scratching and biting at his shoulder.  
It ends in a flash just as the battle did and he barely registers that it's over because of the intensity. James is still under him, whole body taut as his jaw drops in a silent cry.  
“F-fuck...” he just manages as Robert rolls to the side of him, laughing.  
“Indeed” Robert agrees with a chuckle. He stares at the rise and fall of James’ chest. He’s alive. They both are. “Did I hurt you?” he strokes strands off black hair away from James’ face.  
James closes his eyes, smile exhausted but content.  
“No. Did I sound hurt?”  
“You sounded something, that’s for sure” Robert teases and James’ arm drops over his eyes, smile turning to a grimace. “It’s a good thing, James” he adds.  
“’m Sure” James mumbles. They stay silent for a while as they listen to owls hoot, to the wind whistling through trees, blowing the smoke into their nostrils.  
“It’ll be fine” He says softly. “For you, at least” He turns to Robert. “You’ll sort in the morning”  
Their gazes meet, soft and tired.  
“Tomorrow is tomorrow” Robert murmurs. “I want to enjoy tonight”


End file.
